


The Patient Hunter Gets The Prey

by Loremaiden



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Prompt Fic, Story: The Adventure of the Devil's Foot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3681825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loremaiden/pseuds/Loremaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes and Watson let their guard down to their detriment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Patient Hunter Gets The Prey

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the April 2015 Prompt #1 on Watson's Woes. Takes place immediately post-DEVI.
> 
> "Our wisdom comes from our experience, and our experience comes from our foolishness." (Anonymous) A time when Holmes and Watson were both fooled.

The remainder of our holiday in Cornwall was quiet, restful, and most importantly, dreamless. Keeping all the cottage's windows open for the rest of the day after our ill-advised experiment effectively banished the thick and musky aroma that had nearly cost us our lives. I suffered no further waking visions or nightmares, and Holmes also appeared to be well-rested. In truth, he looked healthier than he had in months, even before that long period of overwork that had brought us to Cornwall in the first place. After three more days passed with no lingering effects of the powder or lapses back into illness, I confidently pronounced us both fit to return to duty.

When we arrived at Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson gave us a hearty supper and a telegram from Lestrade about a new case that he wished to discuss at our earliest convenience. With this warm welcome home, we retired to our bedrooms in high spirits.

Horror drove the three of us back out into the sitting room a few hours later. My throat had gone completely hoarse from screaming and retching, and Holmes' hands shook so much he dared not attempt to light a cigarette to soothe his nerves, lest he drop the match and start a fire. Mrs. Hudson needed two long pulls of brandy to stop her quaking after she had rushed into the room in terror, fearing from our shrieks that her lodgers were being violently murdered in their beds.

I cursed my earlier misplaced confidence, my imprudent haste in returning to our routine so soon after being subjected to a drug that had driven people mad, that had _killed_ two people. Holmes and I had been fooled, lulled into a false sense of safety by a patient hunter.

The dweller upon the threshold had not left us. It had merely been biding its time.


End file.
